We're finally at Hogwarts! I hope you all are prepared for some familiar faces to surface during the next few chapters.
More thanks to Roheryn's Knight!
I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading!
Chapter Twelve: Hogwarts
Thursday, 6 March 1997
It was dark.
Harry couldn't remember anything. He could, however, still feel the residue of what was once pain tingling over his skin but that was easy to ignore. There was nothing but flashes of light, whispered words, and soft caresses. He remembered being wrapped in a warm cocoon and something vibrant and alive seeping into his body and embracing him.
While it was dark, it was also warm, and Harry never wanted to leave. He would float in this dark, heavenly bliss for all of eternity if he could. The question was, how long could an eternity be?
Something bright flashed from behind him and Harry felt his breath catch. Slowly, he turned around and found himself blinded by a small rectangle of white light shining in the midst of the blacks and greys around him. He could hear voices drifting out of the light like the song of a siren, and he found himself moving unconsciously toward the light.
Harry paused. The closer he got to the light, the colder it got. The song was getting more and more insistent and the allure was almost impossible to resist, but he didn't want to leave the darkness and warmth. Was it worth it?
A familiar hand brushed over his hair and Harry closed his eyes with a small sigh of content. He felt a light pressure on the small of the back and he started when the pressure turned into a firmer push and he tumbled toward the light.
The white light engulfed him and Harry found all of his senses returning. He snapped his eyes open and stared up into a white ceiling. A raging headache hit him head on and he rolled over, clenching his eyes back shut and moaned.
"Oh Merlin," he groaned. "Turn off the lights, Evan."
There was a shuffle of feet and the lights dimmed to a more suitable brightness. "Hello, Mr. Potter. It's great to see you finally awake."
Harry started at the formal mention of his name and the unfamiliar voice. Body snapping taunt, he sat up straight, ignoring his raging headache, and wrenched his eyes open to find himself face to face with a grey-haired woman with and a wand held out in front of her. Before Harry could so much as form a syllable on his tongue, the tip of the wand glowed blue and he reacted.
Giving a shout, Harry rolled sideways to avoid the oncoming spell, twisting and trapping himself in his sheets in the process. Kicking out violently toward the woman, Harry bucked again when he saw her raise her wand again and fell off the bed. He crashed painfully on the hard floor with his right arm underneath him and suppressed a scream as he felt the bones in his wrist crack.
"Get away from me you crazy witch," Harry snarled as he backed up from his place on the floor, cradling his right arm against his chest. He reached out instinctively with his magic but stopped himself just in time.
Wherever he was, he needed to keep his status as a crafter anonymous for the time being. With his markings obscured by a glamour, he could use his magic at the opportune time to escape.
He would wait, like how Evan taught him.
"Mr. Potter!" the woman shrieked. "Stop moving—you've already damaged your wrist young man. I'm only going to cast a diagnostic spell, there's nothing to be frightened about!"
"Liar!" Harry spat. His back hit the wall and he curled around himself like a wounded animal, baring his teeth to warn off the woman. "Stop right there or I'll—"
"Calm down," the woman said tersely, raising her left hand in a placating manner. "Your wand is on the bedside table so it's hardly likely I could do you any harm even if I wanted to. Why don't we get you onto the bed and take a look at your wrist?"
"Don't come any closer," Harry warned again. He felt his magic rising inside of him and he readied himself to strike. Damn the consequences, he wanted to survive. "Where am I? Why am I here?"
The woman gave a long sigh of exasperation. "You're at Hogwarts in the Hospital Wing. We found you just on the outskirts of the grounds unconscious and brought you here. You've been out cold for a good week."
Her words echoed in Harry's head and he froze.
Hogwarts?
His memories hit him like an oncoming train and Harry choked. He remembered the unintentional attack in Hogsmeade, the Dark Lord, his task, the full moon, Greyback—
Oh Merlin. The pack. Did they get away in time?
The woman continued as Harry sat in shocked silence. "You've been driving several of the staff members here crazy trying to find you for the past six years. Gave us a bit of a shock, you did, dear. My name is Madam Pomfrey, by the way. I need to do some diagnostic tests to make sure nothing else is wrong."
She raised her wand and Harry shrank back again, his hands reaching up unconsciously and clenching empty air in front of him. "No," he barked out harshly. He glared defensively at the elderly woman. "Get your wand away from me."
Madam Pomfrey huffed. "The Headmaster requested your presence in his office the moment you woke up. I would send you to him but you've damaged your arm."
"Headmaster?" Harry asked dumbly, his mind still racing to catch up to his current predicament.
"Albus Dumbledore," she said slowly. "Surely you know that he's the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
"Yes, of course," Harry said distantly. Shit, he had forgotten Dumbledore was the Headmaster. "I have no need to see him," he growled lowly while he inched closer toward the edge of his bed. "Let me be on my way." Reaching upwards, he grasped the headboard of the bed with his left hand and attempted to hoist himself up. His right foot slipped and he crashed onto the floor, jarring his wrist in the process.
Harry let out a grunt of pain. "I think I broke my wrist," he forced out through heavy pants Gritting his teeth, he began to subtly pull on the abundant magic around him, sending soothing waves of undulated power towards the broken bones.
The Mediwitch looked worried and inched forward. "Let me take a look." Her expression softened when she saw the terrified look on the boy's face. "I won't hurt you," she soothed. "I'm a Healer. I took an oath to only help the injured."
Harry had no choice. His magic could heal the injury but he would be left to explain how he managed to mend a broken wrist without a wand. It was either have Madam Pomfrey heal him or meet with Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore who, coincidentally, was his target.
"Fine," he said shortly. He kept his gaze suspiciously on the woman as she approached him with exaggerated slowness.
He did, however, let out a whine of pain when she levitated him back onto the bed, jarring his arm in the process.
A look of genuine concern flashed over her face and she raised her wand higher. "Okay, Mr. Potter, relax. I need to run a couple of tests."
Harry bared his teeth at her raised wand. "Put. It. Down."
Madam Pomfrey backed up a step and sent him an irritated look. "Mr. Potter, please, you need to calm down."
"Just get me some bandages," Harry snarled. "I'll bind my wrist myself. And how do you even know my name?"
"It wasn't hard," Madam Pomfrey said with an insulted look as she tucked her wand away. "Your scar gave it away. You also look like an exact replica of your father, but you have your mother's eyes."
She was expecting a look of pride, or perhaps even a fond smile, but she wasn't expecting a sudden expression of apathy.
"Wonderful," Harry droned, his face closing off at the mention of his parents. "Do you think you get me the bandages? I'm a fast healer—I shouldn't need more than a night to heal it."
Madam Pomfrey didn't reply. She stared stoically at Harry's indifferent face before giving a sharp nod. She waved her wand and a roll of white bandages sped from a nearby cabinet and into her hand. After a moment of hesitation, she summoned a vial of skel-grow and pain reliever and made to hand them to him but was stopped by a vicious glare.
"I don't need those," Harry said shortly as he took the bandages from her hand. "I'm going back to sleep. Tell the Headmaster we can talk tomorrow before I leave."
Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "I know you're avoiding him," she said crossly. "It may not be my business, but you can't avoid that man forever. We all know who you are and none of us have any bad intentions toward you. You're safe here at Hogwarts."
Harry merely turned his back on her and closed his eyes. He waited for her to walk away back into her office before opening is eyes and clenching the blanket in dread.
Merlin, what was he going to do now?
Lord Voldemort was a menacing sight. He stood in the middle of the summoning room, his robes billowing with the force of his volatile magic as he tortured the werewolf in front of him.
"What do you mean you haven't found him yet?" he spat disbelievingly. "It's been more than a week, you useless mutt. Find him for me!"
The werewolf snarled weakly on the ground. "A-Alpha's got us all searching day and night, Lord Voldemort. He simply disappeared from Hogsmeade. No one knows where he is. The fog he summoned was too powerful."
Voldemort saw red and he sent another crucio at the man cringing on the floor. "You are with the crafter for one night and you lose him! Tell your Alpha that if he does not find the crafter by tomorrow, then he will face severe consequences for his failure. Now get your mangy worthless hide out of my sight. You've caused enough trouble."
The werewolf slunk away with a snarl that Voldemort decided with great effort to ignore. He turned around, and pinched the bridge of his nose with an irritated sigh.
Harry Potter, the bane of his existence, was missing. He had simply disappeared from sight in the middle of a battle between Greyback's pack and Aurors. The boy had taken a spell made for the pack's Alpha—stupid boy, a crafter was worth a thousand times more than a werewolf—and vanished.
It didn't make any sense. He had even called Evan back from France for a day to aid in the search and the man was confident that Harry was still alive. The Death Eater claimed that he would feel a devastating loss if the crafter died and Voldemort was hoping for the first time that one of his servants wouldn't be in pain anytime soon.
Losing Harry Potter would be losing one of the greatest assets in the war. Voldemort could win the war without the crafter, but the boy was powerful and oh so precious. The war could be won in a much more entertaining manner, particularly when the Light discovers Potter's true alliance.
He heard the door to the room open and whipped around, his eyes narrowed and wand raised to crucio the intruder before he saw who it was.
"Severus," he hissed in a dangerous voice. "You best have good news for me right now. I am no mood to deal with anything else.
Snape sank to his knees and bowed his head in greeting. "I bring news of the crafter, my Lord."
It took Voldemort a second to register the implication of the man's words and when it did, he shot forward, wrapping his fingers tightly around Snape's throat, and squeezed with all his might.
"Tell me," he commanded lowly. "Quickly now," he snapped when the man did not speak, "Before I lose my patience and decide to find out myself."
"H-Hogwarts," Snape choked out. "He is at Hogwarts, my Lord."
Voldemort tossed the Death Eater to the side with a scream of anger. Red sparks spat out of his wand and his magic flexed dangerously in the air.
There was no doubt that Albus Dumbledore had his hands deep in this scheme. Voldemort had yet to describe the full task he planned for Harry. They were not ready to put the plan in motion—nowhere near prepared.
Dumbledore would pay for taking what belonged to Lord Voldemort.
"Severus," Voldemort hissed menacingly. His magic flexed behind him like claws and touched the side of Snape's sallow face. He relished in the sudden drain of color in the other man's face and gave a twisted smile. "You will bring a message from me to the little crafter…"
The next morning, Harry found himself turning over in his bed for the umpteenth time. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep during the night and despite his exhaustion, couldn't help but remain on guard. Instead, he used the time to study the magic around him and to build himself an arsenal of weapons with his magic. He spent hours meditating and coiling his magic carefully inside of him, slowly drawing the potent power from his reserves to create an island of pure power strong enough to incinerate steel. It took just as much effort to weave a ward strong enough to hide tangible magic sparking off of his skin.
If he had to meet with Dumbledore, he'd do it prepared. Perhaps he could off the man and be done with the mission.
Harry paused when he heard footsteps in the distance and immediately slammed his eyes closed. Turning over so his body curled protectively around itself, he forced his body to relax and extended his senses to the approaching matron.
Before the woman's hand could land on his shoulder, Harry couldn't help himself but twist around and shoot her a violent hiss.
"Don't touch me," he warned again, sitting up and stretching with an exaggerated gesture of his arms.
Undaunted, Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms and sent the crafter a stern look. "No need to try and fool me, boy. You should've at least tried to get some sleep—I promised that no harm would come to you."
Harry stared at her. How could she possibly know?
"All the hospital beds have diagnostic wards around them," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Sleep would've given you much needed rest. Would you like some breakfast?"
"No thanks," Harry grumbled with grudging respect while feeling incredibly foolish at the same time. The sleep deprivation was no doubt already eating away at his common sense.
Madam Pomfrey frowned in disapproval but nodded nevertheless. "The Headmaster wishes to see you whenever possible," she said slightly sharply. "You may use the Floo here—it connects directly to his office."
Harry was almost tempted to cross his arms, turn his nose up at the woman, and shout out a petulant "no!"
"I suppose there's no avoiding it," he sighed heavily as he stood up. Keeping a wary eye on the witch, he shuffled toward the fireplace before coming aware of the hospital gown that was scantily covering his body.
Squashing down the instinct to simply conjure a set of black robes, he reached over to grab the damned wand and waved it wildly in the air while subtly twisting the webs to summon proper clothing. Tossing the hospital gown on the bed, he returned back to the fireplace and took a handful of floo powder. Ducking into the low fireplace, he turned and sent the matron a resigned look.
"Where do I go?"
"Just say the Headmaster's office." Just as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed Harry's hand grasping the floo powder unhindered by the broken wrist. "How did you—"
"Headmaster's office!"
Harry found himself whirling in a tornado of ash and fire before he stumbled out of a different fireplace. He straightened warily and looked around at his surroundings.
It was nothing short of a modest yet eccentric office. It was filled with little trinkets that let out little bursts of steam or twinkles occasionally, with walls filled shelf to shelf with books as thick as Harry's own head. There were dozens of portraits decorating the wall, most of them old men and women snoring loudly in their respective armchairs. One of the wizards, a man with pointy silver eyebrows and black hair opened one eye in curiosity before snorting and going back to sleep.
Harry found himself drawn to the side, where a phoenix was preening on a golden perch.
The phoenix turned around and looked straight at the crafter, cocking its head slightly to the left. Harry stared back into the bird's beady black eyes and felt some of the fire from the bird's bright red plumage seep into his own skin. It opened its beak and let out a welcoming trill. He recognized the creature's magic as one akin to his own and offered a shallow bow in return.
"Hello, Fire One," he whispered quietly, stepping forward to stroke the phoenix's beautiful feathers. It felt hot and silky to the touch and Harry smiled as the bird leaned into his touch.
Glancing around at the office again, Harry was reminded that he was in enemy's territory. A quick look into the mirror confirmed that his glamours he had spelled into place during the battle were still in place. He touched the side of his cheek with a single fingernail and reinforced the glamour.
The nails wouldn't hide but who would question a boy with long fingernails?
Sliding the wand out of its leather holster, Harry fingered the wood uncertainly and waited. Where in Merlin's name was Dumbledore?
Before he could decide whether or not to give a try to his inept wandmagic, the floo flared to life and Albus Dumbledore strode in, not giving Harry a second glance as he swept into the room and settled into his arm chair.
"Ah, hello Mr. Potter," he greeted jovially. "Please, take a seat."
Harry took the offered seat warily, carefully tucking his wand back into its hidden holster and folding his hands together stiffly on the desk in front of him.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered as he took his own, much more regal chair. He slipped one of the yellow candies in his mouth and gave a small sigh of delight.
Harry stared. And stared. He was starting to see why Draco believed the man to be an old fool.
The headmaster seemed to take little offense to the lack of reaction and merely put the dish away with a fond look. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Harry with piercing blue eyes.
"Mr. Potter," he began with a welcoming smile. "May I say that it is a pleasure to finally meet the son of James and Lily. You look remarkably like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."
Harry stared deadpan at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't noticed Harry's scathing stare. "I remember when your father first found out that Lily was pregnant," he said jovially. "He was ecstatic. She sent him an owl while he was in the middle of an investigation here at Hogwarts. Nearly cracked his head open when he fainted," Dumbledore chuckled with a fond look
"That's very interesting," Harry said in a less than convincing voice, "But why am I really here? I don't think you called me here to give me a day-to-day recollection on my parents' past."
The Headmaster stared down at the boy for a moment before sobering. "Yes, of course," he said distractedly. "I only thought you should know that your parents graduated from this school and they were very dear friends to me."
Harry forced himself to smile and gave a shallow nod.
"But back to business as you said," Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice still kind. "How is your wrist? Madam Pomfrey told me you managed to break it last night."
Harry glanced down at his right arm. He had healed the break overnight but the Headmaster didn't need to know that. "It's healing," he said simply. "I've always been a fast healer."
"That's good," Dumbledore replied. "Very good. We found you covered in quite a few injuries last week. Madam Pomfrey worked very hard to heal a lot of them." There was a brief pause and the man lost some of his cheery expression. "I was wondering if you would tell me what you were doing outside of Hogwarts a week ago."
Harry knew he was in trouble. He didn't know how much Dumbledore was able to uncover about him while he was unconscious. The old man already knew that he was Harry Potter, most likely with the help of Madam Pomfrey, but what else did he know? Did he know that Harry served the Dark Lord? That Harry was the first fully-trained crafter in centuries? That he lived with Evan Rosier and was plotting his death at the very second?
Deciding to the take the safer route, Harry chose to lie. "I was visiting Hogsmede when it was attacked. I was trying to get out before a stray spell hit me and I'm not sure what happened next."
Dumbledore peered down at him from above his spectacles. "You did not partake in the attack?"
"Of course not," Harry protested vehemently. "I was shopping for supplies." Having full confidence in his ability to repel a Legilimis attack, Harry looked straight into the man's eyes, daring him to call him a liar.
If the Headmaster knew he was lying, the man certainly didn't let it show. Instead, he nodded with a genial smile and pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk. "We've missed you for the past sixteen years, Mr. Potter. If I may ask, have you received any schooling?"
Harry thought quickly. "I was homeschooled," he said shortly.
"You are still in school, are you not?" Dumbledore asked with genuine curiosity.
Images of Bellatrix teaching him twelve ways to rip a man apart with a single dark spell appeared in Harry's mind and he hid a smirk. "I am."
"Then I believe this belongs to you," the Headmaster said quietly, sliding a piece of paper from one side of the desk to the other.
Taking the parchment warily, Harry looked down.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry looked up from the parchment and fixed Dumbledore with dead eyes. Oh hell no. The man must be joking.
Dumbledore continued jovially, as if not noticing Harry's disbelief. "Your parents attended Hogwarts," he explained. "You have always been welcome at Hogwarts but I will not force you to stay."
Harry felt tension build up in his shoulders and swallowed the urge to tell the old man absolutely not.
Taking note of the boy's hesitation, Dumbledore gave the boy a gentle smile. "I can tell you've already decided," he said lightly, standing up and sweeping his hand toward the door. "Please, let me walk you out, my dear boy."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the man suspiciously. Why would Dumbledore be willing to let him go so easily? Was it some kind of twisted trick?
The Headmaster stared back with the same genial smile and damned twinkling eyes.
But then he suddenly remembered Voldemort's words. He was tied to the wards as a ward stone. The Dark Lord had told him how he was connected to Hogwarts and Harry doubted that he would be able to take a step off Hogwarts grounds without being torn in half.
Harry leaned forward as if moving to stand up and slowly curled his right hand into a claw, letting the magic he'd stored inside of him slowly seep to his finger nails. All it would take is one strike. One strike and one of the greatest wizards would be killed—
The phoenix abruptly fluttered over from its stand and landed heavily on Harry's shoulder. The crafter gave a slight gasp as he felt the magic building up inside of him spike sharply before flowing into the sharp talons of the phoenix and out of his body. Chirping, the bird shifted its wings and rubbed its head against Harry's hair.
"Fawkes has taken a liking to you," Dumbledore observed thoughtfully. "I always consider phoenixes a great judge of character. It says a great deal for a phoenix to have taken to you, and so quickly too."
Harry felt something inside of him settle and he leaned back. Not now. He couldn't kill; not now. Instead, he would continue to wait like Evan taught him. The Headmaster was dangling the perfect chance to blend in and do what Voldemort would have wanted him to do.
"If you will have me, I would like to enroll," Harry said carefully as he stiffly leaned back into his chair. His fingers relaxed and he felt his magic calm down from its once volatile storm.
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose up in a rather convincing gesture of surprise "Very good," the man said brightly, moving back to sit down. "Your name was written in the book the second you were born. You'll always be welcome at Hogwarts."
Harry nodded. "So now what?"
"I must talk with the rest of the staff first," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "You will have to be sorted, of course, but at a later time. There are details we must settle first." Reaching down, he pulled another sheet of paper from inside his desk and slid it over to Harry. "Here is a list of classes we offer at Hogwarts. At your age, which I am assuming is sixteen, I can put you in with the rest of the sixth years unless you need to be tested?"
"No need," Harry gritted out, thinking about his abysmal wand work.
"Then you have room for two electives," Dumbledore continued. "Also, if by the chance you have not heard, Hogwarts has the honor of hosting the TriWizard Tournament. Students from Dumstrang and Beuxbatons have been staying on school grounds for the duration of the games."
Harry mulled over the words thoughtfully. "The TriWizard Tournament," he murmured slowly. "Why this year?"
Dumbledore took off his spectacles and folded his aged hands in front of him, sending Harry a gentle smile. "Why, in the darkest of times, is it not best to shine a light through? Hogwarts is a sanctuary—the students will be safe here and they will have the games to focus on." His gaze suddenly mellowed and grew serious. "I am not sure where you have been for the past six years since we lost you. I am not rude enough to force you to tell me but I urge you to trust me, Harry. If there's anything—anything at all—you would like to say, you have the freedom and security to tell me."
Harry felt his heart race. The man's blue eyes were intense and, Merlin forbid, knowing.
Impossible. His glamours were flawless. The man couldn't possibly know.
"That is not your concern," he said stiffly. "I appreciate the concern but I am in no danger."
"That is not what I am worried about," Dumbledore sighed softly. "Some of the other professors have confessed their suspicions of finding you right outside the school during a Death Eater attack. I am not the type to be suspicious, but if there is anything you want to tell me, Harry, please do."
Harry did not speak.
It was clear to Dumbledore that he would not get a confession anytime soon. Giving another small smile, the man continued. "I have assigned a set of guest rooms for you to rest in until we get you sorted into a house. I will summon a house elf to help you find them."
"No need," Harry interrupted. "I will find them myself." He sent a slightly sardonic smile at the Headmaster. "I like to explore before I settle down."
"Of course," Dumbledore exclaimed. "What is life without exploration? I believe that every witch and wizard has the same desire, but in the end, where is but home to return to?"
Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable and he couldn't help but avert his eyes from the man's intense gaze. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said with a hint of coldness. "With your permission, I'll take my leave?"
Dumbledore gave a regal nod and Harry could barely suppress the urge to turn his tail and bolt from the office. Instead, he strode out with enough confidence to perhaps mask his uncertainty.
As Harry retraced his steps back to the Hospital Wing, it was growing clear that Dumbledore was not a man to be messed with. Harry couldn't put a finger on it but he had a feeling that the Headmaster knew something. It was impossible but Harry wouldn't be like the other fools who underestimated Dumbledore because of his age.
Killing Dumbledore would have to be something carefully planned out. A quick glance around the hall already confirmed his suspicions: the walls were adorned with hundreds of portraits. He wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore learned school gossip from the many painted figures hanging innocently on the walls.
Getting into Hogwarts was originally Harry's greatest obstacle. Now that he had accidently made it in and had gotten stuck at the same time, Harry had no idea what to do. He was hideously unprepared.
Harry pulled out his wand from its holster and stared at the wood. The useless stick would be his saving grace as it appeared. No one could know he was a crafter. There was no doubt that rumors of a crafter in Lord Voldemort's grasp had spread to the Light Side and the last thing Harry wanted was being hunted down with torches and pitchforks.
Chuckling darkly, Harry continued his way through the hallways and past the Hospital Wing. It was time he tried to test the boundaries of his imprisonment in the wards.
Duking into a small room Harry deduced as a storage closet, he took a quick look around and cast a privacy ward. Placing his left hand on the wall of the castle, Harry felt his leg tremble and buckle as waves of ancient and infinitely powerful magic washed over him. The magic tasted familiar and flowed around his own, twirling together like long-lost siblings and pooling together into one enormous magic source.
Harry stumbled. He had slammed closer toward the wall and his magic purred in contentment as it twined together with the castle.
Use us, the magic whispered with a gentle caress. We are yours, crafter. You are ours. Use us, use us.
His nerves tingling and eyes lidded with pleasure, Harry struggled to form words on his sluggish tongue.
"Show me where the office of Severus Snape is."
Magic rushed through his body like a roaring tsunami, rising and growing larger than it had ever been and Harry watched as the webs pulsed in one command and—
A single trail of bright purple led him down a corridor and towards a flight of stairs.
Harry gave a gasp as he wrenched his hand away from the wall. His body heaved with exhaustion as he fought to stay upright on his two feet.
Holy mother of Merlin, he thought breathlessly. Never before had he been so swollen of magic. It seemed that while he was connected to the wards and feeding it magic from his own body, he could draw magic from the wards at the same time.
Now that was something that could be useful in the future.
Still panting, Harry brought his tingling palm up for inspection. The skin that was in contact with the castle had turned a dark black and was roughly calloused. The smell of burning flesh rose to Harry's nose and he felt himself blanch.
Grimacing at the injured limb, Harry attempted to cast a healing spell but only found it washing over the wound. Brow crinkling in confusion, he touched the nail of his right hand onto his left and hissed as he forced pure magic into the blackened skin. There was a jolt of pain before the skin began to pucker and reduce to a pale pink color around the deadened flesh.
Satisfied, Harry quickly bandaged his hand and followed the purple trail down into the dungeons, feeling the temperature drop with every step down the dark corridor. When he arrived in front of a solid oak door, he merely touched the handle and watched with giddy excitement as the lock clicked open and the door swung open.
The room was empty. It was almost a replica of his office in Malfoy's Manor, with cauldrons bubbling and hissing in the corner. The walls were filled with oak bookshelves neatly stocked with hundreds of textbooks and bottles of mysterious ingredients. There was no sign of personal decorations or even a window.
The man was like a bloody antisocial vampire.
Harry strode forward and settled into one of the stiff armchairs, crossing his legs and bringing his hands together. His magic swirled around him dangerously and he could feel the webs dancing around his body with happiness of finally finding somewhere worthy of its presence.
Hogwarts was dangerous. Dumbledore was dangerous.
It was like a time bomb, ticking away and away.
Sighing in irritation, Harry settled further in the chair with a huff and brooded darkly at the closed door. He felt his hand rise instinctively to his chest and touch something cold hanging around his neck.
Harry sat up with a start. The locket! Of course!
Casting a nervous glance around the room, Harry quickly drew the pendent from underneath his shirt and opened it apprehensively with a low hiss.
It was empty.
Growing in frustration, Harry fought the urge to chuck it into the bubbling cauldron beside him and instead snapped it closed and threw it back under his shirt. Sitting back, he brought his wand out again and began twirling it around his fingers.
He would wait as long as he needed for Snape to return to his quarters.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Yes. Have I ever lied to you?"
"You're sure he's one of them?"
"I'm positive. I can bring you proof if you wish but I think you already believe me. It just hadn't gotten through your head that the boy wonder is not so much a wonder after all."
There was a deep sigh. "Very well. And on the other issue?"
"He is. It's seems impossible but he is one, Merlin help us all."
Another sigh, this time with a hint of sadness. "A blessing and a curse both. Thank you for all you've done. I will need time to think over this."
A pause. "He's but a child. There may still be the chance—"
"There is always the chance," the voice was stern now.
"Of course." Another pause. "I will leave you to your thoughts."
Silence.
The fireplace roared and Harry jerked awake.
He had been waiting for nearly three hours and he was on the brink of meddling with Snape's potions just so he had something to do before the Floo flared to life.
Harry watched with narrowed eyes as the Death Eater glided from the fireplace, not even paying attention to the crafter's tense form and moving toward the small, modest kitchen to pull out a glass and a large bottle of whiskey. Snape splashed a healthy amount of the alcohol in the glass and took a sip.
"What brings you to my lowly abode, Potter?"
The mockery was blaringly obvious but Harry refused to rise up to the bait.
"Don't push me, Snape," he warned lowly. "I know you've been in contact with the Dark Lord. Did he say anything?"
Snape looked down at the sitting boy with condescending eyes. "Please, Potter. If anyone's in danger here, it'd be you. You're in my domain now. As foolish as you are, I don't think even you are dumb enough to use those crafter powers of you against a professor of the school." He sent a disdainful look at the wand Harry was clenching. "Let's not forget about that frightful wand of yours too."
Harry gritted his teeth in irritation. As much as he loathed it, he couldn't curse the man without determining his limits in the castle. While he could draw on magic from the castle, he doubted he would be able to use that against a school teacher. The wards were meant to protect, not attack.
Snape took another sip of whiskey. "The Dark Lord sends his regards. He wishes to tell you that your mission is still in play and that you had best not disappoint him. He also wishes to inform you that you will be seeing him sometime soon."
Mulling over the information in his head, Harry shot Snape a dark look. "Anything else?"
Snape sneered. "No."
"I don't suppose you'd take a message back to the Dark Lord?"
"I'm not suicidal, Potter," Snape spat. "There is no doubt the message will be antagonizing and the Dark Lord does not play by the rule: don't shoot the messenger."
"Very well," Harry sighed. He stood up, stretched briefly, and made his way to the door.
A cloaked body blocked his way.
"My thoughts do not change from what they were a week ago," Snape whispered hatefully. "This mission is meant for you to fail. You are even more useless in Hogwarts than out. Do the world a favor and turn away, Potter, while you still can."
Harry felt his mouth dry. Was the man… warning him?
"That's none of your business, Snape," Harry hissed. "Mind your own."
Shouldering his way out the door, Harry ignored the poisonous look Snape was sure to be sending at his retreating back and made his way out of the dungeons.
Touching the wall, Harry felt the castle's magic wash through him and he pressed his body against the stone, relishing in the warm comfort.
"Take me to my rooms," he whispered, imagining the strings he'd weave together and the webs he'd touch.
There was a blur of colors and Harry found himself in the middle of a modest sitting room, with one door leading to a small bedroom and another to a bathroom. The walls were colored a dark maroon and the furniture a creamy white.
Not bad, Harry thought tiredly to himself as he made his way to the small kitchen and pulled out a bottle of butterbeer.
As he sipped the sweet drink, Harry mulled over his thoughts.
The Dark Lord said that he would be meeting Harry sometime soon. Was this a hint to some future plan of infiltrating Hogwarts? The school, like Dumbledore said, was a sanctuary. It would be near impossible to penetrate, Dark Lord magic or not.
On that thought, if the Headmaster were to die, the school would lose one of its grounding supports and the wards would weaken. Connected to the wards, Harry was confident there was some way he could manipulate them to allow Death Eaters into the school.
He brought his injured hand onto his lap and gently unfurled the bandages. A hiss left his clenched teeth as he observed the blackened flesh that was slowly healing.
Powerful magic always left a mark.
Wrapping his hand back in the bandages, Harry took another sip of butterbeer before pulling out the Dark Lord's locket again. He frowned as he eyed the inanimate snake in the front and opened the locket, only to find himself face to face with a furious Tom Riddle.
You! The portrait practically howled, pointing his finger as far as he could straight towards Harry's bewildered face. Where in the bloody hell have you been? I barely got one word out of you before I find myself shut out for a week before the Dark Lord summoned me! You four-eyed miserable little fool! How can you allow yourself to be captured by Dumbledore so easily?
Harry scowled. Yes, I'm doing fine, thanks. No, I'm not injured, I'm glad you asked.
You shut up, Tom ordered. What in heaven's hell have you gotten yourself into?
I have absolutely no idea, Harry sighed. Did the Dark Lord send you?
Tom leveled the crafter with a dead stare. Of course he did. Did you really think he'd tell Snape the true message?
Harry had to admit that it didn't even cross his mind that Snape was a double spy.
Never mind that, Tom huffed. The Dark Lord wishes to know if you've any contact with Dumbledore.
Yes, Harry confessed. He wants me to attend Hogwarts. There are some… complications to my connection to the wards but tell him that I will fulfill the vow and that he needn't worry.
The Dark Lord doesn't worry you imbecile, Tom scoffed. His face softened slightly. You've gotten yourself in a right mess. The Dark Lord summoned that Malfoy of yours—told him to have his son act as a helper to you and our quest. That should be fun.
Fun indeed, Harry hissed with a dark look.
I am your main communication with the Dark Lord, do you understand? Tom said suddenly. You will send no owls or make no Floo calls, or heaven forbid confide in Snape or that blond Malfoy.
Harry sighed in exasperation. Yes, I know. Did he say anything else?
The Dark Lord told me that you were to find a way to bypass the wards. That is your first priority. Enlist help from the blond.
Consider it handled, Harry said. Exhaustion began to creep on him and he fought the urge to close his eyes. Anything else? I need to get some rest before I collapse.
Tom eyed the crafter. Just be careful. Report to me every night.
Yes m'lord, Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes before snapping the locket shut.
Harry stumbled blindly from his chair and into the comfort of the small bedroom. Collapsing on the sheets, he pressed his face into the soft pillow and let out a deep sigh.
Despite his lethargic state, Harry felt the castle's magic worm its way around his body. His magic did nothing to fight the intrusion and he felt himself lull further to sleep.
Crafter. Crafter. Crafter, the webs chanted.
He felt the tiredness seep further into his body and a spark of alarm went off in his head.
It was the magic madness. Evan warned him of it in the early stages of his training. Few places in the world had magic ancient enough to draw in a crafter like him but Hogwarts was one of those few. The Dark Lord was correct in that he would be a ward stone. His magic would feed the castle; a never ending supply of food because as a crafter, his heart not only pumped blood but the purest form of magic. But while his magic would not weaken, his mind would become more and more drawn to the castle until he and the wards became one. Then, Harry was sure that Hogwarts would become literally impenetrable.
He hadn't shared that belief with anyone. He had planned to with the Dark Lord in hopes of convincing the man of not sending Harry to Hogwarts but it was too late. What was done was done and Harry could do nothing but face the consequences.
The madness was already on him.
Helplessness was not something Harry had felt before but now he could feel it clawing inside of him, the taste bitter and heavy in his mouth. He felt the urge to fight. To find a way to flee but all he could feel was the growing darkness and warmth swarming around him.
He was trapped.
I hope that met all your expectations! It was a pretty slow chapter but it was a necessary introduction into Hogwarts and Dumbledore. We'll get a look into what Evan's been up to next chapter of course.
Thanks to Kamorie, Wolven spirits, Aldryne21, passanger, and Identity for their reviews! I really appreciate all the comments and insight! I didn't think that Evan would get so much hatred but I'm kind of flattered that he was able to entice such a reaction. If it makes all you feel better, he will get what he deserves sometime in the future. A hint for later on (;
Anyways, leave me more comments and thoughts in a review! It's great motivation to know that there are complete strangers out there reading and enjoying your work. Thanks so much!
***On that note, what do you all think about the chapter lengths? They're getting kind of long and I'm wondering if I should cut back a bit. Also, this may not change the route of the story but would you rather see slash or het, granted that I do decide to put in some relationship? Any preferred pairings? I just realized I've introduced about three female characters so far oops.
Updates may come a bit slower for the next few weeks. I have chapters to write up and honestly my life is a whole busy mess right now. Thanks and tell me what you think!